Why Do I Go? Paul’s Wrap-up Post
Click to see a slideshow of photos from Paul’s week in Africa.
When Jess asked me to write a summation for this week, to tell a story of an amazing moment, I cringed a bit. I don’t have an apex moment to point to, either on safari or during the clinic. The moments that do stand out to me don’t seem particularly noteworthy. I believe part of this problem is due to familiarity. After all, this was my fifth trip to Uganda.
That’s just a crazy sentence. I know people who haven’t been outside their state five times, let alone their country. This trip takes commitment, moving through 7 times zones over the course of 24 hours of continuous travel each way. A certain amount of risk is involved. Ebola is in the Congo. Someone just got kidnapped. And while those are low probability events, you are certain to be served some kind of strange food (like matoke, poshoe, or goat). Eventually, something you ingest will include a stomach bug that makes you wonder why you even do this in the first place.
But I never get asked that question. No one asks, “Why?” When I say that I’m going to Uganda on a medical mission trip, people usually respond with, “Cool, have a great trip.” Some people even say, “I’ve always wanted to do that.” But I don’t remember the last time someone asked me why I was doing this.
You would think I’d have a good answer by now. I mean, I wrote a book about my first trip, Called to Follow. My son, Brendan, went with me one year. I’ve seen so many elephants, giraffes, and hippos that it’s barely a blip on the emotional radar anymore. I’ve done clinics in the mud hut villages in the north and poverty stricken slums in Kampala.
I wish I had an answer like my brother, Mike. He did a whole video on why he goes, how he has a fire burning within. Basically, it’s part of his nature, and he can’t not do this thing. Even if no one else went with him, he would still pack his bags and go take care of people in need.
My wife has a pretty good answer too. Stephanie has been with me on every trip, but her motivation is more defined than mine. She grew up wanting to be a nurse so that she could go to Africa and take care of people. So when the opportunity came to actually make that dream a reality, she couldn’t pass that up. And so I was mistaken—even if no one else went with Mike, my wife would still pack her bags and go with him to take care of people in need.
In fact, it is her passion that entices me to go with her. Just imagine getting the chance to watch your spouse do the thing that they were put on earth to do. The glow emanating from their skin. The smile on their face. The extra bounce in their step. Her heart comes alive when she is in Africa, and I want to participate in making her heart come alive. I want to see it happen. I want to be a part of it.
“Why do I keep going to Uganda? Because God keeps asking me to go. ”
On the plane, Stephanie and I look forward to the opportunity to catch up on movies. One of our favorites on this trip was a documentary, Bill Murray Stories. Apparently, he is a legendary figure for showing up in unlikely places. He washed dishes at an apartment during a college party. He worked as a roadie for a band playing in someone’s house. He photobombed a couple’s wedding pictures. It’s completely random, and the stories become legends for the people who were involved. Whether he’s joining in singing karaoke or dishing drinks behind the bar, he knows who he is, and he uses his presence in a powerful way.
When I think of the safari, I don’t have a big exciting story of almost being charged by elephants, surrounded by giraffes, or startled by lions. My most valuable treasure is jumping in the pool at the end of the river cruise and then sitting with my dad, my brother, and his best friend. And as we sat there talking, the rest of the team slowly joined us, the circle growing larger. And everyone in the circle did have a big, exciting story to remember and share.
Our three days of clinics were steady and consistent. It never rained, and was always sunny. Give or take a few people, we saw 500 patients every day. Once again, I don’t have a story of transformed lives or miraculous healing to share.
The story I remember is seeing this little boy, maybe 2 years old. He was jumping down from one step to another, then climbing up to do it all over again. I jumped with him, then we started to play peek-a-boo around the walls, and running around in the grass. There is something infectious (something we normally try to avoid in a medical clinic—infections are bad) about the way little children laugh. As we played, I could see the people waiting, sitting in chairs under tents in the hot Ugandan sun. They were watching us. And whenever the little boy laughed, they began smiling and laughing too.
The creator of the documentary suggested it was Murray’s background in improv that made these stories possible. The mindset of the performers is one of, “Yes, and…” Improv is based on going with the flow, building off of each other and the audience. Nothing kills the act faster than saying, “No, I’m not going there.”
Why do I keep going to Uganda? Because God keeps asking me to go. Not because of any amazing preaching ability or medical knowledge. Not because a fire burns inside me or it’s been my biggest dream. I go because I will be missed. My presence matters, at the very least to the people who are also going (it’s easy to say that when half the team is your family. Literally). As the ultimate improv partner, God keeps inviting me, and I’ve been able to respond, “Yes, and…”