I made it back to my cement room to be greeted with spiders (and their webs), mold (this is the tropics), goat poop (luckily just on my front step) and rain (as if I didn’t experience enough rain and mud slides while being back home). It was almost comforting to get back to my small room, my small village and welcoming faces after spending a few days fighting with the baggage people in Accra to get one of my bags (the one with all the clothing)… one bag didn’t arrive and after a few days of patiently waiting, and calling United to track my bag I was told by them that it had arrived, but the lost baggage people in Accra said that is didn’t, I said it did, they said it didn’t, I said let me look, they said no, I said let me look and they said ok… and guess what… there it WAS! (I knew it.)

It wasn’t as hard to get on the plane in Grand Junction (knowing what I was getting myself into) as it was getting off the plane in Accra (realizing yet again what I was actually getting myself into… yikes!) But for some reason, I’m still here, knowing that some greater force is keeping me here (I do have the option to say I quit if I don’t want to be here).

But getting back to my village and seeing the houses that are in ruins and knowing that families actually live in them… seeing the smiling children that know nothing else of the world, and to realize that this is truly a unique opportunity that I have put myself in, is probably what’s keeping my feet on solid ground in Ghana.

I was able to reflect a bit while I was home to realize how MUCH we have… how big our houses are (even if you live in a trailer home)… our options of food (my mom asked to pick out some cereal while shopping at the grocery store and I finally told her that she had to choose because there were too many options)… the cars we drive, the roads we drive on, clean drinking water, and the list could go on and on. We truly are a rich nation if you look at it in these terms. Please be grateful for what we have!