I used volunteer at the refugee help center in my hometown. During the orientation we all had to say why we'd decided to devote our time to their children's program. My answer was simple: I was required to volunteer as part of a class on social advocacy (don't judge me too harshly-- I kept going after I got my A). One man in the room, a full-time graduate student from Africa with an assistantship and a wife and kids, started his answer by explaining, "I analyzed my life and realized that I was not using my Saturday mornings productively."
When I used to relate that story his statement was always the punchline. Hadn't he ever heard of sleeping in? I know he didn't do it on Sundays because he went to the same church as my family. What busy person wants more things to fill their life? Lately however, his words are beginning to make more sense. Every day I come home from work and cook and clean up and watch the telly and pick out an outfit for the next day and then I go to bed. I've tried to shake things up over the last few months but all my little projects have fizzled out and the rut just settles back in. I finally decided that I wasn't thinking big enough. Maybe the semi-public (because who is going to read this?) nature of a blog will be enough to hold me accountable.
Bonus Story: Once, on a trip to the local art museum with the refugee center kids, the man told me that he thought I would make a good wife for his nephew. I was a little discomforted by this. He was rather traditional (once he scolded a child for picking up a snack with his left hand instead of his right) and there was a definite possibility that he was truly playing matchmaker. I wasn't really concerned about it, however, until he related the story to my mother after an evening church service. "I think I scared your daughter," he said, "by joking with her about marrying my nephew." Joking? Nice try Monsieur Andre. Some may consider it a joke but I consider it a subtle attempt to see if my mother would be willing to arrange my marriage. I am now certain that, had I been in an impulsive mood that day at the museum, I would be writing this post from the Democratic Republic of Congo.
Bonus Video: I only just discovered this song which is pretty sad when you consider that I saw it on Glee quite some time ago.
*The image represents a Nigerian wedding and not a Congolese wedding but I couldn't resist sharing this awesome wedding photographer.
