Owen & Mzee

I've been home a little over a week. And i've had a lot to come home to! And there's a lot to say about that, and think about that, and process with that. And all that is the blog post for another day. Sufficeth it to say that reentry, although blissfully laden with hot showers and doctor pepper, has not been easy. And I feel the joy in my eyes slowly seeping back into the hidden crevices of the bottom shelf like a bubble bath left alone too long.

I've done little to retain the joy, to prevent it from slipping back into the deeper parts of me. I could attribute my reemersion into reality to the 2x4 of confusion that painfully wacked me upside the head one week ago today. Or to the functional necessity of work and the mass's petty dramas of human interaction. Who knows why America errods me?

For whatever reason, I know that my face does reflect the joy, the incredible sense of rightness, that I see when i look at my picture with Owen. (Owen is the beautiful african baby that I met while in Uganda that cosmically shifted my universe for those of you that don't remember...)

And then today, God sent me a little joy bug. Like an annoyingly persistant mosquito that swarms around your head, you can hear it, you can sense it approaching, but you can't quite locate it enough to squash it before it gets you. And instead of sucking your life from you for its selfish purpose, it infuses you with a little burst of life force and then unselfishly goes on its merry way. And today that joy bug is a book called Owen and Mzee.

On my way back from a week long regional training event in Chattanooga, a week of out to eat suitcase living, and a week of still not feeling home home, I decided to stop at Nashville's montly flea market. I've been living here in Nashville for a year and have always wanted to go but have never been able to. Last night I had a dream of a treasure chest for Ft. Miriam and decided that I needed to stop by the flea market and find one.

So I park for free becuaes it's friday. And i immerse myself into the smells and sounds and sights of an american day in the south. It reminded me of the african markets with crates of junk, smells of fried food, and lots of interesting people to see. I found my treasure chest after about 20 mintues and $20. Perfect! But I kept wandering.

And then i ended up at this children's book vender. $3 a book he warmly informs me. $3? What the great day? And so i joyously read all the preschool books wondering to myself if Owen has any books? If he has anyone to read to him at night as he's falling asleep? If anyone has even taken the time to teach him his letters? I opened all the pop up books (they are my favorite.) I touched all the fuzzy books. And I giggled at all the countdown books of monkeys, acorns, and bumblebees. I try to experience these silly books like Owen would. The first time feelig the soft fake fur of a bear, the cuddly material of a baby sheep. It's enough to break my heart the longing I feel to curl up with this baby and read him a story.

I picked up two copies of my favorite book " I love you becuase you're you" and nearly cried wishing I could hand deliver it to that baby in Africa and tell him how true it is and how enternal it could be if only it's God's will.

And i started to hear it...the buzz buzz of the joy bug. Zooming around my head and heart, reminding me that there is a Creater and a Master Planner who knows where each of His children are and what each of His children need. And I stood still a moment to see if the joy bug would land so that I could feel the full infusion.

And then I saw it. The joy bug. Right on the tip of my nose.

In a book named Owen and Mzee. It's the real life story of a rescued baby hippopotumus from Kenya and his unlikly friendship with a giant turtle named Mzee.

Owen was lost, stuck, and hurting for a family. He was vulnerable and yet already heavy. Mzee was solitary, hardened and protected by an enormous shell perfectly content to roam the boma alone.

Owen's uncanny ability to persistanlty force Mzee to face him, their supernatural ability to communicate (they developed sound paterns unique to both of their species), and the obvious force of need and affection, created an inseperable and unusual connection not before seen or fully understood in the animal world.

Now they can be seen eating, swiming, sleeping, and playing together. Scientists don't know what provoked or maintains this connection. All they know is that "no matter how things turn out, the story of their frineship will always remind the world that when you need a friend, one will be there for you. And that best friends come in all colors, shapes and sizes."

And so do mommys and baby boys.

Blessings,

Shai