Listen. This is how it begins.

I must first and foremost begin with the newest thing that has managed to crawl into my mind and spread spider-webs of hope all over my imagination and thought process.
It's name is Devi.
Devi means child in the local tribal language in the Volta Region of Ghana. This is the area I live in. Working with the children at the orphanage has been a life changing experience just like everyone has said it would be. But I needed more. I found my outlet. I found my inspiration.
The children in the orphanage are going through motions, they memorize and regurgitate. The cane is used and fear is something they respond to in a learning situation. There seems to be not much room for creativity, encouragement to think outside the box. There are also days in which food is hard to come by, or is not at all. Medical supplies are low and I crave to have all the money in the world to buy proper bedding for them, maybe a roof for their classroom so the grass leaf one doesn't leak in the tropical rain. Do not get the wrong idea. This orphanage is New. These people are trying. But having so many kids and no sponsor results in struggle. An understandable struggle.
So then it hit me. Art. May your absent God bless you chip because the supplies you gave me as a gift have served as the beginning to an organization that has already began. I have decided to integrate the arts, along with art therapy, into the system of their schooling at the home. I am to write up my lesson ideas so that it may be carried on after I leave. I have eight days of work left. I know I can do it. I know I can plant that seed. Vicky and I hand in hand, we are determined to give these kids an outlet.
So Friday I passed out pencils, paper and crayons. We taught them how to draw a face and let them loose. A few of them, at least. They were beautiful in their explosion of creativity. I will take these drawings of themselves and sell their copies as prints in the states to raise money for basic needs of the orphanage so that they may begin to focus more not on getting rice for the day, but giving the children a chance to flourish intellectually. I have not felt this awake about an idea since Invisible Children tote bags. My mind buzzes. I am blessed with friends and family who do nothing but support these desires I have. They reach out to me wanting to help further my idea. You have no idea what this means to me. The organization is going to be called Devi, in their honor. We will start a blog and start on a grassroots level. I am so excited. So ready. Chip little did you know your children drawing pads would lead to feeding those same kids that opened up on those sheets. My heart is shining with smiles.

Other than that so much else has happened in these past days. But that is what catches me most. I have fed a monkey from my hand, fit 25 people in one tro, experienced extreme racism, got a hair cut from vicky, treated the kids at the orphanage for simple things and ringworm, and got told I should get to know my host brother better, who ironically wants to marry an American girl, talk about awkward. Thats too is a story for over coffee. I can't help but laugh. I cant help but know I will miss things so deeply. Saying hello to strangers, a slow lifestyle, an inability to have constant contact. Never knowing what will shock me that day. Missing my mother's voice and my fathers stories. My dogs and chilling with John. Longing for people but also knowing when I get home I will need time alone.

Today I woke to the sound of African drumming and worship at 7:30. I can't help but love that, regardless of how badly I wanted a chance to sleep past 6 for once. I went to the pool yesterday, and got turned into a cherry red person, burned even behind my knees, but its something so laughable I can't care. I read The Meat and Spirit Plan in a day and a half and it blew my mind. I cannot thank you enough Goble, that book spoke to me.

My trip here is one that keeps me thinking. So internally and externally. I do not have light conversations here often. They always turn so intense. It is something I needed so badly. I can't wait to see what else my mind has stored inside it, to be awaken by the afternoons in Africa.
I cannot get over the work I am doing. The orphans are beautiful. They burst with life from the rooftop of my smiling heart and I see God in them. Their skin crawls with scales, remenants of a life before home and a softness that lingers. A purity so shiny it grabs you. You cannot refuse their yellow orange finger-tips. They reach up at your smile and crave more. I will miss them so, so deeply. I wrote about one of the girls I teach english to. There is something about her. I can't fully place it. Her name is Gifty.
- Narrow eyes like diamonds shift through me. They pierce my essence, grab my attention, scream at me. Her wise smirk comes closely behind her stern and somber cheeks. She has begun to cling to me as the earth's moisture does to my cheeks in the African sun. Her fingers singe me. I can feel their need to feed on love. Her pulse bears the same blood as mine and in her I see a struggle I once knew.

My mind buzzes. I miss you all but love my experience here. Please be patient with me when I return, I have a feeling it will be hard to readjust to the American lifestyle after this. I hope every day all of you are well.

I love you all more than words.