Lately I have found that life is best lived on my feet.
Every morning I walk from hospital bed to hospital bed, making silly faces and telling all of our patients how beautiful they are. I blow bubbles and dance up and down the aisles, hoping to help them crack a smile, taking some worry out of their morning. Hours later I sway back and forth, calming babies in my arms as they recover from life changing surgery. I bend over to clean my patient's face, feed them juice, pat their backs as they throw up, and give them medicine to help ease their pain. I stand next to dummies on stretchers and guide local nurses through skills labs, teaching them everything I know about bedside care so that one day my feet can feel different ground. In the evening I walk home. I take the time to breathe deep, and enjoy the sights and sounds of this city which I call home, because I know it can not be home forever.
Every free chance I have, I go to the orphanage and visit some very special kids. They squeal and run towards me as I enter, it is so infectious that I can't help but to squeal and run too. I scoop them up two by two and give them each a hug. They chase me around and for as long as I can we play games, pray and eat snacks. After my Sunday evening visits, I head across the grounds to a temple. There we sing, dance, and jump up and down on hard marble floor for at least one hours time. Oh how my feet love to be used to praise Him!
At home you might find me stooped down low to scrub my clothes then stretched up high to clip them on the drying line. Standing over the sink to wash the dishes, or over the stove to make a meal. I bend over to my bucket, scoop after scoop to pour water over my head in the shower. You may even find me on the balcony, dancing around and singing for all to hear.
On the weekends I wander through the market, bargaining for produce. I carry it home on my back and slung over my shoulder. I stand for hours, cooking meals for children who desperately need to know the face of Love. I get hot and sweaty and my feet, how they throb. But if I could do it every day, I would. With the help of whoever is willing, we walk down the street to where the kids have no homes. As they see us coming towards them they rise to their feet. They jump with an excitement and hysteria that simultaneously makes me the most happy and sad that I have ever felt. We pass out the meals and when I can, I bend down low and clean the wounds that living on the streets creates.
Hour after hour, day by day this is my life lived upright. My aching back and tired legs beg me to slow down, but my heart, it moves at full speed and it demands that I live life on my feet.