Limbo

No, not the dance contest where people try to bend backwards and pass underneath a pole without falling or knocking the pole down, but rather the state of my life. 

I'm trying to embrace limbo. But it's extraordinarily difficult. 

You may have guessed from this post, or this one, that I didn't love living in Geneva. Let me clarify that there isn't anything wrong with Geneva. Plenty of people live there and they love it. My problem with Geneva was that it wasn't South Africa which obviously it could never be.

My time in Geneva was comprised of a) thinking b) crying c) running in the park or as we like to say in Geneva, parc and d) drinking cappuccinos excessively. That is until I realized they were making me fat and I had to switch to tea. 

Note, here is the point in this post where I tried for over an hour to insert a photo from Geneva but none of my photos would load which maybe is a sign that it's not "meant to be."

Strangely, Geneva was also a positive experience. Kind of like the way someone might describe being stranded on a deserted island as a positive experience. Not pleasant in the day to day but once rescued you enjoy more clarity in life. In Geneva I found clarity for which I am grateful. I found it in the beautiful Parc de Bertrand where I ran, walked, sat, laid in the grass, dodged scooters, watched the leaves turn and pondered my life until clarity finally arrived. Even though I couldn't wait to escape Geneva, I find myself missing Parc de Bertrand and wondering what it looks like now covered in snow.

It was in Geneva that I made the decision to return to live and work in South Africa.  

We have all met people who have a serious love for the color purple (the color not the movie.) You don't meet people who love red, green or blue the way some people love purple. Why this is I don't know. I have google searched this purple loving phenomenon but haven't found anything. I think it's the same for those of us who love Africa, we love it so deeply that we are in love with it. Just as it seems odd to us non purple lovers that someone would want to dress from head to toe in purple, paint a room purple or drive a purple car, those of us who love Africa feel there is no such thing as too much Africa.

It's not just that I love Africa, or more specifically South Africa, it's that I loved the me who lived in South Africa. It's where I became the best version of myself. If you've been reading this blog for a while, I don't think you find this surprising. 

To that end, I decided that I not only wanted to return but wanted to figure out a way to work there combining my years of experience working for a non-profit organization with one of the things that I loved doing most of all when I was there, helping kids to improve their English literacy.

You would think, as I certainly did at the time, that living in Geneva and feeling so directionless was the hard part.  Or, you might think the hardest part must have been talking to Mr. Deep about going back to Africa alone. There was also the difficulty of figuring out how to get back to Africa because we as humans aren't just free to roam the earth to live and work where ever we want whenever we want. There are rules and visas and paperwork to be attended to.

With the help of many people including Mr. Deep and a South African lawyer I was able to figure it out and on February 2 I submitted paperwork to the Department of Home Affairs in South Africa, which once approved, would allow me to return there to live and work. 

Which brings us to right now, which it turns out, is the hardest part. You have no idea how much I wish I was a person who had faith. I wish I believed all the things that other people tell me such as "if it's meant to be it will happen." 

It's not that I don't think that the paperwork will be processed or that I will receive eventual approval to return, but the process will likely take months and months. A minimum of eight months my lawyer told me, until she told me it was a minimum of ten.  

This must be what it feels like for people who want to adopt a child. First, they make the hard decision to do so, then they spend a lot of money and time working with lawyers and proving their worthiness, and then they wait. They wake up each day wondering if it's the day they will receive what they so badly want and then, around 4:00 p.m., they realize that it's not going to happen that day. Maybe they spend time preparing and buying baby stuff or maybe they don't because they are so afraid that it will never come to be. It's an unusual circumstance to make such a big, important, life changing decision only to find yourself solely at the mercy of others facing a timeline you can't control or even impact. 

Tom Petty, who I've listened to and loved since I was fifteen years old passed away while we were living in Geneva. Yes, on top of everything I had to cope with Tom Petty's death while there...but Tom said it best....

"The waiting is the hardest part
Every day you see one more card
You take it on faith, you take it to the heart
The waiting is the hardest part" - Tom Petty

And so I wait it out in America. Trying to embrace my limbo by spending meaningful time with people I love while I wait and wait and wait.